


i placed my bet, and you came through

by ellatrobbie



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: AU date fluff, AU where crossroads isn't a thing, F/M, Is that a thing, at least the quintis storyline in that episode isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellatrobbie/pseuds/ellatrobbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There’s some combination of relief and admiration and absolute <em>frustration</em> because she wants this to be easy and simple and now she’s standing in a hospital waiting room in five inch heels." // She wore perfume for him, so I had to give them a happy ending. (Ha.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i placed my bet, and you came through

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to write this since the /sneak peek/ for Crossroads came out, and I'm still not entirely happy with it but I'm letting it out into the wild in hopes of finding a better home and so I can go back to writing other stuff. 
> 
> (This is barely edited, like all my stuff so you know the drill - please forgive me.)

She waits for nearly an hour before she gives up, drops some notes on the table and walks out. _I’m going to kill him_ is the running track in her head. And she is. She is going to kill him slowly, painfully. For not showing up. For making her wait. For making her wear perfume. For making her believe for a moment this was in any way a good idea.

Her phone rings as she’s crossing the road, and she pulls it out of her bag. His name is on the screen in bright letters, taunting her and she growls as she hits the reject button. No way was she talking to him right now, tonight, maybe ever.

By the time she gets into her truck, there’s a voicemail notification on the screen. And she wants to ignore it. She _should_ ignore it. But maybe she can treat this whole thing like a band aid, get rid of him and his stupid excuses in one step and tomorrow they can pretend like this whole thing never happened.

After she kills him, _obviously_.

“Happy – ahh _of course_ you’re not gonna pick up. You’re probably pissed,” his voice comes through the speaker and he sounds weary, drained. “Look I’m at the hospital,” she freezes then, grips the phone a little tighter as he continues, “I mean, I’m not – I was on my way to the restaurant and the car in front of me crashed. I was the first one there and – anyway, I’ll tell you tomorrow. I hope you hear this, Happy, I _really_ wanted to be there.”

She takes a deep breath, lowers her phone to her lap still gripping it tightly. She’s thrown, so sure of her anger 20 seconds ago, anchored in it, and now she’s feeling pulled in all directions.

Screwing up their date to save a life, if that isn’t the definition of Toby Curtis then what is?

* * *

She follows the directions to the waiting room, finds him sitting there, bouncing a knee up and down anxiously. He’s holding some magazine in one hand and his phone in the other but he doesn’t seem to really be looking at either. His shirt is dark, but she can spot a dark stain on his chest, probably blood, and is relieved that she can assume it’s not his. She’s left her anger on the road, trailing behind her truck as she estimates how fast the cars were going, how close  _he_ had been to being hit. There’s some combination of relief and admiration and absolute  _frustration_ because she wants this to be easy and simple and now she’s standing in a hospital waiting room in five inch heels.

“Hey,” she says as she walks up to him. He isn’t expecting her, doesn’t see her until she’s already there and when he does his jaw drops. He’s not subtle at all, his eyes look her up and down slowly and she bites her lip, determined not to smile but secretly pleased that he appreciates her efforts.

“I-uh-what are you doing here?” he asks, still flustered.

“You missed our date,” she replies, looks at him pointedly as she sits down in the chair next to him.  

He frowns, as if he’s _still_ not entirely sure why she’s here. And maybe she isn’t either. “Happy, you know I-”

“What happened?”  She interrupts, because he looks like he needs to talk and doctor once told her talking was good.

He sighs, leans back in his seat, tells her how the car in front of him got ploughed by some drunk who ran a red light, right in the driver’s side. The driver, a teenage girl, was bleeding badly and he had tried to control it until the ambulance finally came. He seems shaken by the whole thing; he’s not even stressing that he’s just saved someone’s life.

“That girl is in surgery right now, not the morgue, because of you,” she says slowly, sincerely.

And he looks like he’s not sure he believes her, but she holds her gaze steady.  

* * *

It’s just after midnight when a nurse comes out to talk to them. He’s told her to go home a handful of times already and each time she just glares at him before going back to flipping through a ratty old car magazine she found. She’s already calculated the maximum strength of all of the chairs in the room, and how high she could stack them, if she wanted to. But she’s not leaving.

“Dr. Curtis?” the nurse asks, and Toby stands up straight away, more alert. She follows him up, taking a moment to balance on her heels after sitting for so long.

“She’ll be alright, she’s being taken to post-op but your actions kept her from bleeding out. We can update you in the morning, if you’d like?”

Behind the nurse are a middle-aged couple, she sees them but doesn’t pay much attention until they barrel past the nurse and hug Toby. “You’re the doctor, the one that saved our daughter. _Thank you_.”

“It was _my_ pleasure,” Toby grins properly for the first time all night, tips his hat at the parents and as much as she wants to rolls her eyes; she can’t bear to look away. She can picture him telling this story tomorrow, turning himself into Indiana Jones now that he knows the girl is alright.

“Come on,” she says as they watch the parents go back to rejoin their daughter and they’re left alone again.

He furrows his brow, but follows her. “Where are we going?”

She’s already two steps ahead, when she looks over her shoulder. “I’m starving, and you still owe me dinner.”

He nods, thinks for a moment. “I know a place.”

* * *

The place is a diner, open late with just the right amount of customers to make it less weird that they’re having dinner after midnight. They take her truck; leave his car at the hospital to pick up later. He seems happy to let her drive, for once.

They sit at a booth, opposite each other, and she plays with her ring while he stares at the menu. And for thirty seconds it’s so awkward that she’s regretting every decision she’s ever made.

“I saved a life tonight; I think that deserves pie, right?” He says then, grins at her from above the menu.

She bites back a smile, “I’m not sharing my food with you, Doc.”

His pie arrives, as does her burger and fries and neither of them say anything when she turns her plate so the fries are closer to him. He swipes a couple and shoves them in his mouth.

“You know what this reminds me of?” He asks, mouth full.

“The diner scene from Pulp Fiction?” She says, because she knows him and if he gets the chance to make a movie reference, he’ll do it. The booths here are the only thing remotely like that scene at all, but he’s grinning at her anyway.

He picks up another fry and points it at her, “I knew I liked you.”

“You know they were criminals, right?”

He shakes his head, “ _They_ were soul mates.”

* * *

She pulls the truck up outside her apartment, kills the engine and jumps out before he can say anything. She’s already leaning against the hood when he scrambles out and slams the door. He looks like he wants to say something but he’s just sort of...

 “You keep staring at me,” she says finally.

His gaze moves up to meet hers. “Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?”

She nods, her lips quirking. “Twice.”

He frowns, steps closer to her. “That’s nowhere near enough.”

Their faces are barely inches apart when she hears him inhale sharply. “Did you just sniff me, perv.”

He pulls away, eyebrows high but he’s grinning. He’s been caught but he’s taking her down with him. “Why Ms. Quinn, are you wearing perfume?”

She stops. Of course he noticed the perfume. Of course he knows she doesn’t usually wear any. “I -”

He waves a hand before letting it land on her arm, “No I like it. You smell good. Not that I didn’t - ”

It was overshadowed by anger, but there was a tiny part of her that was almost glad when he didn’t show at the restaurant.  It gave her a reason to stay away from him. A reason to build another wall. Because the truth is she’s terrified of him. Terrified of the way he looks at her, the way his hand is now gripping her wrist gently. By how much she wants to kiss him. How much she’s wanted to kiss him all night, when she was done wanting to kill him.

“I’m sorry our date was overshadowed by my impromptu heroism. I’ll try not to do that next time,” He adds suddenly, a smirk on his lips.

“Next time?” She raises an eyebrow, looks at him flatly. Just for the fun of it.

His smirk starts to fade, but she just pulls at his shirt until his lips meet hers. _Finally_. He’ s less flustered this time, moves his hands up until one is in her hair, holding the back of her head and the other slips around her waist until he’s pulling her even closer. She licks into his mouth, moans quietly when he tilts his head a little further.  He’s moved even closer, crowding her against the truck and she really wants to get out of this dress _now_.

Her lungs are burning when she finally pull apart. It’s dark but his eyes are bright and staring at her like the first time they kissed except this time, maybe, she doesn’t want to walk away.

She lets go of his shirt, and only then does he relax his grip and move back half a step, allowing her to step away from the truck.  She bites her lips, glances up at her front door before turning back to him.

“You coming?”

* * *

She’s at her desk the next morning when Paige comes up to her. She can hear her heels clicking from the other side of the garage and she knows exactly what this conversation is going to be about. That doesn’t mean she wants to have it.

“So, _Happy_ , how was your date with Toby?” Paige asks, leaning against the desk. Her voice is cheerful, curious, and Happy wants to ask when her dates became a team event. But she knows this place doesn’t exactly know how to do secrets. Or subtlety.

She looks up, raises an eyebrow silently and Paige’s smile falters.

“That bad, huh? I mean, I’m sure it’s strange transitioning from friends to something more but you shouldn’t -”

Thankfully, Paige’s counselling session is interrupted by the door swinging open and Toby walking in, large coffee in hand and a cocky grin plastered on his face. She kind of wants to throw something at him, though not too hard, but settles for focusing on her work instead.

Instead of heading straight to his desk Toby goes around, steps behind her but so closely that she can feel his arm graze against her back. He’s doing this on purpose, she know, he knows, and Paige can probably tell. He’s about to step away when he stops. She glances up at him, only for a second, and he’s looking down at her intently.

“ _You_ _smell nice_ ,” he says simply, before turning to nod at Paige. “Good morning!”

He walks away then, bellowing out a good morning to Sly at his desk and Walter upstairs and her lips can’t help but quirk up. Her cheeks feel warm, as does her back and she’s definitely going to have to get this all under control.

She looks up finally to find Paige still looking at her, only curiosity has been replaced with a knowing grin. Happy narrows her eyes, tries to glare but she knows she’s still smiling.

“Not so bad, huh?” Paige says, before raising her hands up in a mock surrender and walking away. Happy watches her then shifts her gaze to Toby, now at his desk. He’s got his headphones on, and is drumming a pencil against the table and he looks more content than he should be for only getting four hours of sleep.

They have plans for tonight, made them as she was brushing her teeth and he was searching for his socks under her bed before she dropped him at the hospital to pick up his car. He’d kissed her before getting out of the truck and it was quick and casual and familiar and _definitely_ not so bad.

She focuses, finds him grinning at her, having caught her gaze. She’s still terrified, but it’s the kind of fear that leaves butterflies in her stomach and warmth in her cheeks and maybe she can deal with that.


End file.
